


Frozen

by infinite_regress



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon What Canon, Disney, F/M, Finding out stuff, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, emotional honesty, frozen, happiness, snuggles, watching a movie together, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 09:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_regress/pseuds/infinite_regress
Summary: The Doctor decides to take care of Clara after getting them lost in frozen ice caves for three days. He discovers, after years of building an ice fortress around his hearts, that sometimes you have to let it go.





	Frozen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarieAnneLouise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieAnneLouise/gifts).



> With thanks to Mark Gatiss for planting this seed in my mind, and apologies to Elsa and Anna for its execution.

“I really am very sorry, Clara,” the Doctor said, pulling a tartan blanket around her shoulders.

Clara shivered and tugged the prickly blanket as close to her as she could. Her red shirt and jeans were both soaked, her nose and ears were stinging, and her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering no matter how firmly she tried to press them together. She had to admit, he did _look_ sorry, patting her shoulder, and loitering in front of her with that awkward smile.

She perched on one of the pilot’s chairs, feet not quite touching the floor, cold water dripping from her shoes to pool on the console room floor around his feet. His trousers were splattered with mud and he had three days-worth of stubble on his chin. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

He took her hand, and examined her fingers. “No blueness. I don’t think there’s any danger of frostbite.”

It was hardly the first time he’d got her into a situation like this, but this one was a corker. She shot him an irritated glare. “Can you manage to take me home without a detour of any kind?”

He dropped her hand. “Yes. I can manage that. Definitely. And to prove how sorry I am, I’m going to take care of you,” he said, bending forward to give her upper arms a vigorous rub, as if to prove how determined he was to warm her up.

“There’s no need. Just—” Clara sneezed.

“See? Yes there is. Absolutely there is.”

Clara sighed. She appreciated the thought, really she did. Frankly, she could stand quite a lot of _being taken care of_ by him. The problem was, she didn’t think he could actually do it. “Doctor,” she laughed, not meaning to sound unkind, “you’ll be terrible at it.”

He straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. Immediately, she saw her mistake. He took that as a challenge. He turned abruptly about and flicked the dematerialisation lever. The TARDIS groaned to Earth.

“This will be the best _taking care_ of your life,” he said, dashing from the console and out of the door. He poked his head back a second later. “Don’t move.”

Clara shook her head, bemused, and then she sneezed again.

#

Clara stepped into her flat to the sound of the bath running. The Doctor seemed to want to guide her to the bathroom, so she just let him. It probably made him feel better about getting them stuck for three days in the ice caverns, so she decided to just go along with it. There was something nice about knowing he was so concerned.

“See, bath the perfectly set to raise your core body temperature, and infused with healing crystals from Metaloban Three to stop you sneezing.”

The water glistened purple, and the bathroom was filled with a heady floral smell, that filled her lungs with warmth as she breathed in the steamy air. Clara eased her hair out from under her soaked shirt, and rolled her shoulders as the fabric clung to her. She’d be glad to be out of these clothes. She peeled the wet jeans off and flung them on the floor.

“It does look lovely,” she said, dipping her fingers in the warm, glistening water. She started to unbutton her shirt, and glanced at him. He was stood barefoot in her bathroom, his trousers rolled up, presumably to contain the mud, which was considerate of him, all things considered. He really was trying.

“And what about you?” she said.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m—”

“—less breakable than me, I got it. But you’re soaked too.”

He looked up at her then, and it occurred to her she was about to take her shirt off. It seemed like thought occurred to him right about the same time. His face flushed crimson, and he didn’t seem to know where to put his eyes.

“Ah, I’ll just buzz off back to the TARDIS and get cleaned up. Then I’ll make food. And … hot chocolate. And,” he was gabbling now, deliciously so. Embarrassed Time Lord, Clara realised, was adorable. “A movie,” he went on, “we’ll watch a movie together.”  He backed out of the door. For a moment, for a wicked moment, she thought about asking him if he wanted to join her in the bath.

“Doctor,” she called, before he entirely escaped.

He shot her a quizzical look.

“Thank you. Thanks for rescuing me. And thanks for this bath.”

He hesitated. Seemed almost about to step towards her. Then he quirked a half smile. “Least I could do,” he said, and then he was gone.

#

Clara felt a hundred times better after the bath, wrapped in her silk pyjamas and a robe. “That was lovely. I wouldn’t object if you got me a bottle of whatever it was you put in it.”

He grinned. His hair was a bit spiky, and he’d changed from his mud-splattered trousers into soft slacks. His chin looked freshly shaved, and Clara had an odd compulsion to touch it. Probably shouldn’t. Add that to the list of things she probably shouldn’t do, but wanted to anyway.

“I’ll get you a whole crate of the stuff,” he said.

Clara laughed. “You’ll forget. It’s alright.” She snuggled up next to him on the sofa. If he really was going to sit still, she was going to make the most of it.

He pulled a blanket over her legs. Then he patted blanket over her leg, in a little _see how I’m looking after you_ gesture.

 Clara noticed the DVD case lying on the coffee table. She picked it up and turned it over. “You are joking? You froze me half to death, and _this_ is the movie you choose to make up for it?”

“It said it was a heart-warming tale…” he replied, with wide puppy-dog eyes.

“Doctor, this is very sweet. But are you really going to sit still for the length of an entire film?”

He shifted himself on the sofa, snuggling himself defiantly next to her. “I can sit still. Just watch me.” He turned and wagged a finger at her. “ _You_ just sit there and be looked after.”

She grabbed his finger playfully. Their eyes met, those stormy blue-grey eyes that had seen civilisations rise and fall. Something fluttered through her chest, that delicate rush she’d been noticing lately when their eyes met for too long, or their hands brushed against one another.  

“Ah,” he said, as if he suddenly didn’t know where to put his hands, or his eyes. “You want your hot chocolate?”

She nodded, warmth flashing across her cheeks. It hit her then. _This_ was the reason they rarely stopped their frantic dash across the universe. Quiet moments like this were dangerous, because they raised questions neither of them knew how to answer. They made her want things she probably shouldn’t want.

He leaned forward and passed her mug.

“Thank you,” she said, still staring at him. He’s not just a guy, she realised with a jolt. He’s the turn of the universe. A paradox passing through, leaving chaos in his wake. The oncoming storm. _The man who gives monsters nightmares_. And here he was, sitting barefoot on her sofa fussing over her with hot chocolate. There was something irresistible about that.

He fumbled around for the remote control, his eyes anywhere but on her, his face a little flushed too. What went on in that head of his? When they did this, when they danced around each other, did he feel it too? Or did it all go over his head? He went from _not a hugger_  to playing Pretty Woman for her in the space of a few months. Well, it was a few months for her. It could have been years for him.

“How long were you away? Between saying goodbye and Christmas?”

“Eternity,” he said. Then he shrugged and smiled.  “Or it could have been a few weeks. You know me. Shall we start this movie?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He stared straight ahead, diligently not looking in her direction. “Somethings are too big, Clara,” he said softly, and before she could ask him what he meant, he hit play.

#

Clara was watching the film, and the Doctor was watching Clara. Her face was that distinctive heart shape, and her eyes wide and endlessly expressive. Her skin darker than his own, without the fine wrinkles regeneration had seen fit to bestow upon him. Her hair was glossy and dark to his soft, barely controllable grey. He’d considered it all before, of course. Worked out every permutation of _what she needed_ and _what he wanted_ and every shade in between. He’d cursed himself a million times for not loving her while he was a younger man. Of course he loved her now. How could he not love her? And for her part, she loved the moments they had together, he had no doubt of that. She was fearless. She thrived on the adventure, lately more than ever. Today was a case in point. They’d meant to visit the deep subterranean crystal caverns and spent three days lost in the frozen chambers of Zeld. And she’d somehow forgiven him already. Next week she’d be ready to do it all again.  

But sitting still, this close, with her silk pyjama’s brushing up against his leg, the waft of the bath oils he’d laced the water with still lingering, with all that, he could hardly be expected to focus on a film. She glanced at him occasionally, and smiled. He wished she’d stop doing that.

He forced his attention back to the film. “So, are they just going to pretend she hasn’t got magic then?”

“Looks like it.”

“That’s not going to end well.”

“Ignoring things never does.” Clara was staring at him now, her beautiful eyes fixed in some kind of challenge. “When you ignore things, it gets painful.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Sometimes things are better off ignored. It’s safer.”

“Is that what you think? It’s best to play safe?”

He laughed a tight laugh. “Are we still talking about the film?”

Clara looked away.  “Of course,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

#

Clara could feel the Doctor’s fidgeting beside her. He didn’t need downtime like she did. Or if he did, she’d never seen it. He was a restless ball of energy at her side, drumming his fingers on his knee.

She grabbed his hand, mainly to stop the tapping. “You don’t have to stay, Doctor.”

“I want to stay.”

“Do you? Because it seems to me you can’t bear to sit still.”

“Well that’s hardly my fault, when you’re doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Well, looking like that. And smiling. It’s distracting.”

Clara gave him a hard stare now, because she didn’t feel inclined to accept responsibility for his fidgeting.  “What does that even mean?”  

“Do you want more hot chocolate?”

“No, I don’t want more hot chocolate.” What she wanted was a straight answer. What she wanted was not to be feeling so disjointed. “You’re infuriating. You drag me off into that snog box of yours, you show me the universe is so much bigger than I ever imagined. You make me almost _fall_ for you, and then you change!”

“Well I’m sorry. I don’t remember having a choice.”

“No, but you have one now.”

“What does _that_ mean?” He stared at her like he didn’t understand. And perhaps he didn’t. She could hardly understand it herself, so she just stared at him with her arms folded.

Clara opened and then shut her mouth. He really was the most infuriating man in the universe. How was she supposed to work out how she felt when he continually ducked and dived like this? One of these days, when he looked at her the way he did she'd play him at his own game. Didn’t he know what bedroom eyes were? Perhaps he really didn’t. Perhaps that was just how Time Lords looked at their friends.

She felt suddenly deflated. “I suppose … I suppose there’s nothing special about me.”

He seemed to deflate next to her. “Oh Clara, there’s everything special about you. But I’m just an old idiot with a box, showing you the stars until …”

“Until what?” she asked, more gently now.

“Until we’re done.”

“What if I don’t want it to end?”

“It always ends.” His eyes seemed to contain the sadness of eons.

She choked back a sob, because she really was not going to cry. “Not for us. Doctor, I don’t want us to ever stop.”

“Clara, you’ll find someone, or you’ll get tired of this life.”

“But I want _you_.” As she said it, the full force of her own words hit her. She did want him. Glorious mad man with a box.  She’d told him once no one could match him. It was true.

He stared at her, tilted his head to one side, as if replaying her words to be sure he’d heard right. He made no move towards her. The film had ended, but she barely noticed the theme song playing in the background.

Heart racing, she leaned closer to him. A swirling storm of emotions howled inside her heart. She’d tried so hard to hold it back, be the perfect companion; the good friend he deserved. Heaven knows she’d tried. But she didn’t think she could do it anymore. Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his, so lightly, so briefly, if she blinked she could imagine it didn’t happen.

“Do you think,” she whispered, “that it’s time to let go?

#

Her lips pressed gently to his, like a snowflake melting as soon as it touched his skin. A storm raged in his hearts. He’d tried to conceal it. He’d tried not to feel it. But it was happening anyway. Perhaps it was time to test the limits and break through the walls he’d built around his hearts.

She was waiting, her eyes filled with uncertainty, frozen. It was up to him now.

“ _You_ are the love of my lives,” he whispered.  He laced his fingers through hers and drew her into a full kiss. She’d melted his hearts, broken through his isolation, and she was right. It really was time to let it go.  


End file.
